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Major was about halfway through his list of Chaos Killer victims. Most of them had hung up on him when he told them who he was. The few who had stayed on the call long enough to find out what he was calling about listened to his description of Natalie and then told him they didn't know anything. Only one so far had given him any useful information at all. He supposed one was better than none, but it was getting tiring saying the same things over and over again, making the same apologies. They had been held in the Max Rager basement, most of them had dealt with Vaughn du Clark—was it really that hard a stretch to understand why he had done what he had done? Then again, he supposed that waking up in a freezer was fairly traumatic in and of itself.
He should probably be more sympathetic, he told himself, but it wasn't easy, not with his increasing concern for Natalie's whereabouts. If she was gone, she alone amongst all the zombies from those freezers, she must have been very valuable to someone, so he was sure she was still out there somewhere. But wherever it was, it couldn't be pleasant for her. He thought of her lovely house, her photographs, her love of freedom, and then of her trapped somewhere, being used, no doubt, and he wondered if it wouldn't have been kinder to let her shoot herself the way she had intended to do.
Between phone calls, Major passed the time worrying about the cure. So far, he hadn't felt any ill effects, but he could see the way Ravi watched him. It was only a matter of time. His lungs would fill with fluid, and he would suffocate. Or he could take the new cure and lose everything he was and ever had been. All his memories, all the time he had spent with Liv—they would be nothing but blankness. A black hole where Major Lilywhite used to be.
Enough of this, he thought firmly. He was hungry, that's what it was. Janko's brain had been a while ago now, and he needed something new—new brains, new thoughts, new personality traits. Anything to get his mind off this hamster wheel it had been stuck on.
He texted Liv. What's cooking?
Chili dogs. Come get some. You must be starved.
You have no idea.
Tripping down the stairs to the morgue, he could smell it. The chili, the spices, and that certain something that said brains to a hungry zombie. "Mm, something smells good!" On the Bunsen burners stood two saucepans. They looked the same, but just to make sure, he asked, "What are we looking at here?"
Liv pointed to the first pot. "This is Stanley Chen, fifty-year-old bank manager, and this is his fifteen-year-old ice-skating enthusiast daughter." She pointed at the second pot, which Major noticed was more full.
Hoping that didn't mean what he was afraid it meant, he said, "Dibs on the dad. You guys know I hate the cold, and I would love to get my finances in order." To give Max Rager credit, they had paid on time, and fairly well, but Major hadn't had any time to deal with the mess of debt he had built up after he was fired from Helton.
"You should eat the daughter," Clive said, and then swallowed, looking a little green around the gills. "Words I never thought I'd hear myself say."
Ravi grinned at him, clearly enjoying no longer being the only non-zombie in the conversation. "The new normal."
"God, I hope not." Clive went on, thinking it through as he spoke. "High-powered banker, odds are he, not the high school sophomore, was the intended target. Liv's already partaken of … banker brain." Major had to give him credit, he was rolling with this better than expected, but it was hard to get used to this whole idea of eating someone's brain and taking on their personality.
"Uh …" Major looked at the bubbling pot of brain chili, then at Liv, and then at Clive, and then back at the pot. "It's just … I'm not sure this is the best time for me to be on teenage girl brain? I—I'm getting closer to finding Natalie, and I just started mercenary training …"
"And what?" Liv asked. "You're worried there'll be math?"
"No."
"Suck it up, Lilywhite! I was a teenage girl for seven whole years. I think you can handle a week. Besides," she added, as Major reached for a bun and stuck a hot dog inside it, "you might have a vision of a license plate or something."
"Yeah. Of course." Next time, he'd get to the morgue sooner. That's what he'd do.
"You're close to finding Natalie?" Liv asked him.
"Closer. One of the Chaos Killer victims told me he thawed out in the Max Rager basement in time to see Natalie begging Janko to call a number. She said the guy on the other end would pay big bucks for her. Guess who had a vision of Natalie whispering that number to Janko?"
"I want to say … Major Lilywhite!" Ravi said, in his best game show voice.
Major plucked the number out of his shirt pocket. "Boom!" It was the first time he'd ever had a vision that he wished would never end. Even when scared, Natalie was a sight to be seen.
"That number seems like a dangerous thing to have," Liv cautioned him.
Clive held out his hand. "I could run the number, see if it's traceable?"
Major felt oddly reluctant. This was his quest; he had intended to see it through himself. He'd had fantasies of himself breaking into wherever Natalie was being held and setting her free. But it seemed foolish to turn down the help when it was being offered, and he and Clive had some fences to mend. "Sure," he agreed, and handed over the paper with the number on it.
"Look at us, all working together to solve mysteries," Ravi mused. "We should get a van and a dog."
Finally, Major bit into the brain chili-covered hot dog. It really was damned good. Liv was such a good cook, and the brains were so satisfying. While he moaned with pleasure, and Clive recoiled in disgust, Liv and Clive got ready to head out to investigate the crime.